Devine Retribution

The cavern reeked of scorched flesh and acrid holy smoke. A miasma clung to its jagged stone walls, each breath a reminder of suffering. Flickering remnants of divine magic pulsed weakly, skeletal veins of golden light etched across a floor slicked with blood. Stalactites hung like long-forgotten teeth overhead, their steady drip hissing upon smoldering sigils carved into the cold rock. An overwhelming silence settled here, heavy, and oppressive, as if the dungeon itself wept quietly for the lost.

Amid this echo of death, Kintu stood silent. His scythe hung in his grip; its cursed blade stained with blood that shimmered like liquid starlight under fading illumination. Broken bodies lay strewn in anguished disarray; once-pristine robes of the priests were now tattered, their golden embroidery reduced to memories of divine order. Behind him, Nyota slumped against a cracked pillar.

A soft voice broke into the stillness. Lefu spoke, her tone unexpectedly gentle and laden with concern. "You got lucky, you know."

Kintu turned toward the unseen void from which her words emanated. "Lucky?" he asked, his brow drawing into a frown.

"Mhm," she replied in a low, almost wistful hum. "Those were but low-level zealots. If an angel had been there…"

"Angel?" Kintu's grip on his scythe tightened, the leather cool against his palm.

Lefu sighed as if burdened by ancient memory. "Each god has one. A chosen soul, plucked from the river of reincarnation and remade in divine fire. Not merely blessed but transformed. They are far stronger than mortal champions. They are a walking apocalypse, a final weapon every god covets like precious treasure."

Kintu's eyes drifted to the nearest corpse of a priest, its face locked in an eternal scream, its eyes still glimmering faintly. "So… a super follower?" he murmured.

"Not a mere soldier," Lefu said flatly. "They are our trump card, our fatal mistake. Every god guards theirs fiercely."

Kintu stared at his bloodstained hand, the priest's blood gleaming like molten silver. "What would have happened if one of those angels had shown up?"

"You would have been finished. And Nyota, too," Lefu answered quietly, her tone heavy with sorrow. "You would have been paraded through a cathedral as examples of divine justice. It would not have been a pretty sight."

Exhaling slowly, Kintu allowed his breath to mingle with the chill in the air. "Then I need to grow stronger."

Lefu's voice sharpened. "No. Your scythe and your skills may carry you far, but do not fool yourself into thinking you are invincible. You have barely scratched the surface of what lies out there."

Kintu glanced to where Nyota now stood. Her dark hair clung to her sweat-slicked face, and her eyes burned with fierce defiance. "And what about you, Lefu? Do you have an angel?"

A heavy silence settled until, with a softness tinged by grief, she admitted, "I did. A long time ago."

"What happened?" Kintu pressed softly.

"They died," she answered, her voice carrying the weight of loss.

In that moment, the cavern trembled. A low, resonant rumble slipped through the stone floors, setting loose tiny pebbles that skittered over blood and broken relics. The fading golden light shuddered in a final burst before dimming, as if snuffed out by some unseen hand. Nyota's eyes widened, and she slowly reached toward the dagger at her feet. "Kintu…" she whispered.

For several long beats, silence stretched. The very air seemed to hold its breath. Then, from the far end of the cavern, a figure emerged with a measured, predatory presence. Wearing a kimono etched with swirling storm motifs and bearing a sheathed katana, he approached with calm menace. His weathered face, framed by a topknot streaked with silver, shone with eyes that sparkled like lightning trapped in glass. The charged air around him pulsed steadily, each molecule trembling as if in anticipation of what was to come.

Lefu's whispered name filled the space: "Kasuke, the Light God's angel."

Kasuke inclined his head slightly. "You have spilled sacred blood," he said evenly, his tone carrying both finality and the weight of an impending storm. "The Light God demands retribution."

Kintu raised his scythe slowly, its blade catching the dim glow. "Then you are one of those angels?"

A faint, cold smile curved Kasuke's lips. "I am Kasuke. Forged in the struggles of the Sengoku wars and chosen by the Light God in death, my blade has felled countless armies. You are but a spark before the storm."

With scarcely a moment's warning, Kasuke surged forward. His form blurred, charged with crackling lightning that amplified his speed until it bordered on the impossible. For one suspended moment, time itself seemed to hold still. Kintu barely had time to bring his scythe into motion as Kasuke's katana came crashing against it, sending sparks zinging in every direction and a shockwave rippling across the bloodstained floor.

Nyota lunged, her dagger flashing brightly, but as she moved, Kasuke's figure split into two. One copy advanced on Kintu, their blades arcing in a dance of steel and magic. The other moved swiftly toward Nyota, every motion measured and merciless. In a heartbeat, a bolt of searing lightning streaked from the samurai's katana, catching her across the chest. Her scream shattered the chaos, a raw sound that echoed as she collapsed, her body smoking and eyes dimming.

Kintu roared at the sight, his anger surging. His scythe whipped out in a wide, desperate arc that sent the first Kasuke reeling. Yet even as he forced the enemy back, a burning pain tore through his shoulder; the second copy's blade had found him, blood spraying in a radiant arc.

Lefu's frantic cry pierced the cacophony: "Kintu, you cannot win this way!"

In that raw moment of despair, something far deeper stirred inside him. The very air shifted, dark energy pooling as if summoned by fate. His spilled blood on the cold floor began to glow an ominous, void-like black. The scythe in his hands vibrated, its form elongating and curling like a sentient force. A deep, ancient voice reverberated in his mind:

"You are mine."

For several agonizing seconds, Kintu staggered as pain intertwined with an overwhelming, strange awe. "Her angel," Kintu finished, his voice no longer entirely his own. He felt the divine fire, the reforging. Lefu had chosen him, her soul binding to his in a pact sealed by blood and death. He knelt beside Nyota's fallen form. Time slowed; each heartbeat echoed in eternity. With trembling determination, he extended his hand, which soon glowed with a dark radiance. His divine skill surged to life: Death Gods Resurrection. Shadows pooled and swirled around her, moving deliberately and inexorable. Slowly, her wounds knitted shut as her eyes fluttered open, now touched by the same void-black glow that had taken hold of him. In that moment, she was no longer simply Nyota. She had been reborn as Lefu's follower, bound in an unspoken pact forged by blood and death.

Kasuke's duplicated forms paused, their electric eyes narrowing with disdain. "So, the Death Goddess has chosen," he intoned, his voice both cold and dismissive. "But it changes nothing. Today, you fall."

Kintu rose slowly, Nyota at his side. A heavy tremor coursed through the cavern as they faced the storm of divine vengeance. Kintu's void-black scythe arced through the charged air, while Nyota's dagger, now entwined with coiling darkness, caught glints of defiant light.

The two copies of Kasuke moved in near-perfect synchronicity, their blades a blur of electric energy. Each exchange of strikes was deliberate, the ringing of steel punctuated by moments of harrowing silence. In one breathless pause, Kasuke's voice rang clear and taunting:

"I know of your god, Lefu. She is my sworn enemy. I have slain many of her followers. And I know that your resurrection comes but once per day."

A chill ran through Kintu's blood even as his rage coiled tighter within him. The battle raged, its cadence punctuated by brief, excruciating lulls—the clashing of weapons, ragged breaths, and the cavern's ancient stone bearing witness to each loss.

Then, as though nature mourned the mounting carnage, the atmosphere shifted. A delicate, almost sweet scent filled the air, as if spider lilies were blooming amidst graves. Red mist began to descend slowly from the ceiling. It swirled in gentle eddies that belied its lethal intent, gathering into a heavy shroud. In a measured, calm tone that belied the horror, Kasuke declared, "Manjushage Slash."

For a heartbeat, the cavern held its breath. In that suspended moment, the red mist erupted into a storm of hidden blades. Each invisible slash ripped through the air with a precision that defied time. Kintu's body shuddered violently as the relentless strikes tore through him. His scythe clattered to the bloodstained floor, and Nyota's scream was abruptly silenced as she crumpled amidst the chaos.

Time slowed further in the aftermath. Kasuke stood amid the devastation, his armor pristine and his katana at his side, his gaze passing over the ruin with a cold sense of finality. "What a shame, Lefu. I expected more today," he murmured softly.

Electric energy cascaded behind him as wings of lightning unfurled, illuminating the shattered cavern for one final, luminous moment. With deliberate grace, he ascended through a jagged opening in the ceiling, departing without another word.

In the lingering silence that followed, the cavern bore the scars of battle. Blood soaked the ancient stone and sacred sigils lay broken, silent witnesses to the relentless clash of divine power and rebellion. In that quiet, the dark energy that had surged through Kintu began to ebb, leaving behind both hope and a profound sorrow. The whispers of wings had vanished, replaced by the promise of yet another battle in this eternal war of gods and mortals.